


Take Your Time

by masterwords



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Blood, Death, Eating Disorders, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sick Aaron Hotchner, Sickfic, Stabbing, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28687545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: “Have you eaten today?”That was the first thing Dave said to Aaron every morning for the last week.  It had replaced the previous favorite how are you? because that was too open ended and Aaron had any number of canned responses to shut him down immediately and effectively.  He wouldn't lie, but he knew how to get around it.  Being specific, that one put him in a corner, and because he wouldn't lie, Dave could figure out the answer to all of his other questions, like how Aaron was. Sometimes he felt like such a genius.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/David Rossi
Comments: 19
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anakin0529](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anakin0529/gifts).



> *This fic was a request for an eating disorder/weight loss post-Foyet. I'm going to need to do some serious, SERIOUS fluff after this. Here is Part One. I'm sorry.

“Have you eaten today?”

That was the first thing Dave said to Aaron every morning for the last week. It had replaced the previous favorite how are you? because that was too open ended and Aaron had any number of canned responses to shut him down immediately and effectively. He wouldn't lie, but he knew how to get around it. Being specific, that one put him in a corner, and because he wouldn't lie, Dave could figure out the answer to all of his other questions, like how Aaron was. Sometimes he felt like such a genius. 

“No,” Aaron answered, rather dryly. His head was bowed, propped up by his thumb and forefinger, and he raised his eyes just slightly to meet Dave in a look that was not terribly friendly. It was pretty clear that he was challenging Dave to tread lightly. Dave nodded. He took that answer to mean many things. First, how he was today was not well. Second, this was the third day in a row he hadn't at least eaten breakfast. Third, this topic was not up for further discussion. He figured more about it, but those items were the foremost answers he got. “JJ has a case for us. Conference room in 15 minutes.” Aaron looked back down at his papers dismissively. 

“I'll be late, Strauss is coming by to talk to me about something she says is important. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Aaron looked up this time, really looked up, turned his whole head. “What does she want?”

“Dunno. She just said it's important.” He did know. And unlike Aaron, he did lie. Strauss was coming by to discuss her concerns with Aaron's behavior as of late. He was no longer in charge of the team, he'd relinquished that job to Derek, but he retained some of his previous duties in order to help out during the transition. She'd noticed him becoming withdrawn and short tempered, as well as a few other concerns and of course, she thought Dave might be her best way in. The way Aaron looked at Dave, right then, said he knew it was a lie – but he didn't care. There was no reason for her to come here except that she was worried he was falling apart. And the truth was, she wasn't exactly wrong. 

…..........

“Keep an eye on him, David,” Strauss said softly, her eyes darting to the doorway constantly, like they were being watched. They'd been in Dave's office ten minutes and he was not receptive to her concerns. His office was cold and smelled like his breakfast burrito, the remnants of salsa and egg scenting the air lightly. She hated when people ate in their offices, hated to smell their food, but it wasn't against the rules. 

“He's a grown man, Erin, and he passed the fitness for duty exam,” Dave replied. He sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled before him. She rolled her eyes. 

“You and I both know he could get around anything on that exam without even trying. He basically wrote it. Do you trust him?”

“Completely.”

“Okay. That's good enough for me...for now. I'm just asking you as a friend. Keep an eye on him, I'm worried.” Her voice was soft, almost friendly and gentle. She sounded genuine. 

Dave sighed and nodded. He didn't need to be told to do it, he already was, but he'd be damned if he was going to let Erin Strauss know what he'd seen. 

…..........

“Have you eaten today?” Dave asked, setting a bottle of water and a banana on Aaron's desk. Aaron regarded the gift, turned his eyes up at Dave and shrugged. 

“No,” he said softly. Unless Advil counted, then yes. He'd eaten a lot of that for breakfast with his coffee. And some Aleve as a midnight snack the night prior. None of it helped, of course, but he held out hope that he'd finally manage to dull the pain with the next dose. He tapped his finger on the desk, flipping his pen up and down in his hand and waited for Dave's elaborate excuse for how he came by the food. 

“They had an in-service downstairs this morning, the reps brought a buffet and hardly anyone ate so they're desperate to get people to go down and grab some things. I grabbed this for myself but I'll go get more, you keep it.” He hadn't grabbed it for himself, another lie. He'd grabbed it because he knew what the answer to his question would be, and he knew that even when Aaron was sick, he'd eat bananas. Dave hated bananas, it was a texture thing. He wasn't sure if Aaron knew how he felt about bananas, he was taking a chance here. 

Aaron knew. But he tolerated the lie, because he did want to eat and so far that was the only food offered to him in almost a week that he could actually eat without immediate pain. It wasn't that he hadn't eaten, he'd tried. It wasn't that he didn't want to eat, everything smelled good, it was torture. JJ walked by with Chinese takeout the day before and he'd almost wept because it smelled so good. He just simply couldn't eat. And he didn't know how to explain it to Dave, who was clearly worried. He'd spent nearly every night curled up in bed wishing he could explain it to his friend, hoping Dave could fix him, but he just couldn't find the words. 

He ate half of the banana while Dave sat in his office drinking coffee. They chatted, it was pleasant. Dave never did go get anything else from the buffet downstairs. Aaron felt his stomach cramp, just slightly, and decided he'd let the other half of the banana wait until later. After Dave left, he followed the banana up with some Advil and water and continued his stacks of paperwork. Eventually, the banana was thrown away, still only half eaten. He'd wanted more. He really had. 

…..........

“He's losing weight,” Emily said, leaning forward, staring hard at Dave. Everyone else in the office had gone home for the night, but they still sat behind his closed office door, each with a glass of whiskey in hand, talking in hushed voices. 

“I've noticed,” Dave replied, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. The liquid almost matched Aaron's eyes, and he only thought about that after he'd already had a glass and was working on his second one, which made him sentimental. He and Aaron had been, prior to Foyet's attack, dipping their toes into the waters of what it might look like if they were not just friends. That all stopped with Foyet's knife, though, and Dave wouldn't push. He could be patient. Emily knew, she'd figured it out right away, and she'd become Dave's confidant over that time. The two of them spent nearly every Friday evening like this, sampling new whiskeys in the silent dark of his office. 

“What do we do?” she asked, gulping down the rest of her glass. “What can we do?”

“He's in pain, Emily,” Dave said softly, still staring into the swirling liquid. “We just need to keep reminding him that he's not alone. We're here for him when he's ready.”

“How long do we let it go on? He may never be ready. If we never catch Foyet...”

“We're watching. He's showing up every day, that's something. He's here with us. We're doing what we can for now.”

Dave hated every word he was saying, but Emily nodded. They were watching. She was just afraid that they'd watch him until he was too far gone, respecting his privacy all the way to the grave. The only thing that gave her any peace was knowing that Dave wouldn't let that happen. She trusted him to know when Aaron had crossed the line, and furthermore, to say something when it happened. 

“Promise me we step in before its too late, before he kills himself and we just watch it happen.”

“I promise.” 

…..........

“Have you eaten today?” Dave asked as the two men made their way to the round table room, per Derek's request. Aaron hummed, low in his throat, and they walked through the door before Dave could ask him to elaborate. He knew Dave wouldn't ask in front of everyone, he'd bought himself some time at least. But no, he hadn't. He'd eaten a bowl of miso soup for dinner the night before, it hadn't given him as much trouble as other things, and he was able to sleep for most of the night. Somehow, he didn't think Dave would think that was as much of a win as he had. 

They had to fly out for a case, to Dallas. With the thirty minutes he had until takeoff, he threw a box of green tea into his bag and made sure he had all of his medication on hand. He popped a few Advil and finished his mug of chamomile tea in one gulp, tossing his cup to the side table. He'd get it when he came back, it could sit there with his two discarded coffee cups from earlier that day. 

The night they finished up the case, everyone insisted on having dinner and drinks at a restaurant near the hotel. Aaron tried to get out of it, but the team wasn't prepared to take no for an answer. It was tradition that they celebrated when a case ended well – saved victim, apprehended unsub, clean case. It was the little things. He found himself begrudgingly seated at a BBQ restaurant with a menu full of things that would probably kill him if he ate any of it. So far, he was sure he could have water and even that was dodgy. When it came time to order, he muttered something about their corn chowder and instead they brought him a bowl of baked beans. He didn't want to send it back or make a scene – he was no more convinced he'd be able to eat the soup than the beans anyway, it was just a guess. That's all he did anymore. Everyone noticed he wasn't touching his beans, though, and they were giving him those concerned sideways glances that made him feel self-conscious. He picked up his fork and took a small amount, bringing it slowly to his mouth. It tasted sublime. He could eat some to save face, just as long as he was out of there before his stomach had time to notice. The restaurant was noisy, filled with people eating messy ribs and potato salad and beer, servers hauling trays of food that reminded him of The Flintstones. 

“Want my cornbread, Hotch?” JJ asked, offering her plate to him. He shook his head and smiled. 

“No thanks,” he muttered, taking bite number two of the beans. He was so hungry, and they tasted so good that he ended up eating the entire bowl. It was so easy to eat good food with good company, and he noticed that people weren't staring at him so much now. He'd appeased them, at least for the night. Even Dave seemed to have relaxed, and he was sure it wasn't only the beers they were all having. 

In his hotel room, he was a mess all night. His stomach was wrenched with stabbing pains, the kind that took your breath away. They'd come and go, make him see stars for ten minutes straight and then disappear for a half hour of relief. He had Tums, but they didn't touch the pain. Should he have gone to the doctor? Sure. Absolutely, he knew he should have, but he simply did not want to. He'd seen enough of them to last him a lifetime, and he wasn't eager to hear what kind of bad news they'd give him. He was afraid it would be cancer, if he was being honest, so he tried not to think about it. His home life was so entirely consumed with finding George Foyet that he found it rather easy not to think about the state of his own body. 

…..........

Things got better after Dallas. Maybe it was the beans, or the Texas heat, or just seeing his friends finally relax around him, but things got better. He found more foods he could eat. He was still losing weight, but when Dave asked him if he'd eaten, he could usually say yes. At least a little. Miso soup and salad were his go to meals, he could eat those with only minimal pain afterward. 

…..........

Then Haley died. He held her in his arms and wept, felt himself shatter into a million pieces. Suddenly he was broken and he was a single father. Everyone who looked at him did so with sad eyes and he couldn't take it. He stopped eating again, the pain was back tenfold. It racked his insides. Even drinking water made him sick. He was living on Advil and coffee. 

When the team got back from their case in Nashville, Dave came to see him and offered to cook dinner for he and Jack. He hadn't seen Dave in a week, and was glad when he showed up at the door with two paper bags full of groceries. Aaron hadn't been shopping in a while, he hadn't been out of his house in two days. He and Jack had been sitting around, watching television, drawing pictures, playing with Legos. The apartment was clean, Jack's room was all set up for him exactly how he wanted, Aaron had been able to throw himself so entirely into taking care of his son that it distracted him from the pain. The grief. He saw Haley's face in his son and had to turn away before he lost himself in front of his kid often. So, he was elated to see Dave standing there in front of him, a lighthouse to guide him through the storm. 

He made chicken soup, because Dave was intuitive and he'd already figured Aaron would be struggling with food again and it was Jack's favorite meal. He made it with tiny star shaped pasta, and he put extra broth into Aaron's bowl when he served it. 

“Thanks, Dave,” Aaron said, inhaling the steam hovering over his bowl. Jack grinned and began shoveling the soup into his mouth with glee, polishing off his entire bowl almost instantly. He'd mowed through two bowls before he noticed that his dad hadn't touched his. 

“Daddy, why you not eating? You need ketchup?” Jack asked in his little sing song voice, his big eyes turned up so innocently at his father. Aaron flinched, just a little, and shook his head. 

“No, buddy, I don't need any ketchup...” he said softly, affecting a smile. Jack still looked at him with that concerned frown. 

“You not like carrots?” Jack asked, prodding further. Aaron shook his head again. 

“I love carrots, see?” Aaron replied, and this time he stuck his spoon into the bowl and filled it, shoving the whole bite into his mouth. Noodles, carrots, meat and all. He struggled to swallow it, felt it burn all the way down his throat and land in his empty stomach. Jack grinned. 

“Daddy eat!” he clapped, and Aaron sighed, taking another bite. It tasted heavenly, of course. Dave's cooking was next to none. He took a few more bites, under Jack's watchful eye, before he began just eating the broth. Dave was watching too, but he tried to hide it better than Jack did. When it came time to wash up, Dave had already grabbed everything and begun the process. 

“You already cooked, let me do the dishes,” Aaron said softly, standing a little closer to Dave than he had in a long time. He breathed in the scent of his cologne, spices and warm cigars. The hairs stood up on Dave's arms, he felt electrified being so close to the other man, and then his heart sank at the sight of him up close. He had dark circles under his eyes, the gash on his nose was just a baby pink now, his cheeks looked sunken. That beautiful skin Dave so loved to feel against him was ashen, lacking that bright life he craved. He regarded his friend, up close, noted the pained look in his eye, the way his lips pursed tight like it was straining him to even stand there. It was almost more than he could bear, knowing there wasn't anything he could do to take Aaron's pain away. He reached out, grabbed Aaron's hands in his, pressed a soft kiss to the broken and healing skin of his knuckles and smiled, just a soft little smile. 

“You should go take a shower, read a book, have some time to yourself. I'll finish cleaning up and hang out with Jack. I can give him his bath, put him to bed, whatever you like.” 

“Dave, you don't have to do this,” Aaron protested, but Dave just shook his head. 

“I know I don't have to. I want to. Let me help, please.” Silence fell, for just a moment, and then Aaron nodded and thanked Dave before making his way upstairs on unsteady legs. He was exhausted, hadn't showered in days, probably still wearing the same clothes he'd put on after his last shower. He'd made sure Jack had a bath every night, was fed, and happy but he couldn't seem to do any of those things for himself. Maybe he didn't deserve them, after what he'd done. He couldn't seem to reconcile what he'd done, no matter how he tried. The shower was hot, hot enough to burn his skin and leave him with red splotches when he'd finished, but it felt good. When he finished, he could hear Dave and Jack laughing downstairs, he smiled at the sounds. Jack needed that. He almost asked Dave to stay the night, but at the last moment he decided against it and let him leave after they'd put Jack to bed. He didn't want Dave to see what that bowl of soup was going to do to him when he laid down, he would just feel guilty and Aaron couldn't do that to him. 

He laid in his bed, his legs curled up to his chest, and felt the pain rumble through his stomach, coursing around to his lower back. The night wore on, and his pain got steadily worse with shorter intervals between, until he was moaning and crying, unable to help it, just hoping that Jack wouldn't hear him. He had no idea what time he'd finally managed to get to sleep, but he woke up with the sun to find Jack curled around him in his bed and it startled him, he hadn't even known he'd come in. He had nowhere to be, so he pulled Jack to his chest and breathed in his sweaty baby hair. There was nothing better he had in his life than this child, it was his saving grace. If not for Jack, he would just let go. 

His phone buzzed, a text from Dave that simply said good morning. He would reply later, but it made him smile. Jack woke up sometime later and ran off to get his toys, and Aaron slowly pulled himself out of bed to get dressed – Jessica was coming by in the afternoon to have dinner with them. He put on his old, raggy sweats from the FBI academy and his big wool socks, then wrapped himself in his robe and hugged it tight around him. Popping a few Advil to ease the pain in his head, he made his way to the kitchen to round up something for Jack to eat for breakfast, but found that Jack was eating a yogurt and a bowl of cereal, neither of which they'd had in the house yesterday. There were dozens of tiny, single serve cereal boxes thrown out all over the counter, clearly Jack's work as he ravaged the cupboard until he found the one he wanted. 

“Papa Dave bought me Froot Loops daddy!”

“Well look at that!” Aaron said, completely in awe of how well Dave loved them. He reached into the drawer beneath the microwave and pulled out his little heating pad, throwing it into the microwave. The apartment filled with the smell of popcorn and Jack yelled out that it was stinky, he always did. He'd plug his nose and yell pee-yoo with a grin, Aaron rolled his eyes. It was stinky, he agreed, but he didn't mind – it smelled like memories with Haley, like high school when she made it in home economics and gave it to him and he didn't know what to do with it. He'd never used a heating pad before. Now he couldn't live without it. When it came out of the microwave it burned his fingertips and he tucked it under his shirt, right against the skin of his stomach, and walked to the couch to curl around it while Jack continued eating his bowl of sugar. He wasn't sure it helped, but it didn't hurt. Jessica showed up shortly after, let herself in without knocking and Jack nearly bowled her over with a hug. She wrinkled her nose. 

“That stupid thing needs to go, Aaron,” she scolded, waving her hand in front of her face to illustrate just how bad she thought it smelled in the apartment. “They're not made to last forever.” He rolled his eyes and put his head back down on the pillow while she sat with Jack at the table, asking him questions about his delicious breakfast. They hung out watching movies all day, and Aaron fell asleep during the Ice Age. Sneakily, she got the heating pad out of his arms and heated it back up for him, then tucked it back in. She secretly loved it too, more now, and she knew how much it meant to him. She just wished Haley had thought to make more than one, this one was long overdue for retirement. 

While he slept, she had Jack help her make grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for late lunch. Aaron woke to the incredible smell, he was so hungry he almost cried. He hugged the heating pad tighter, noticing it was still warm – she'd heated it up for him, maybe more than once. 

“Daddy eat!” Jack called, holding up a triangle of grilled cheese. Aaron shook his head as he sat up, feeling a little lightheaded. He shivered and pulled his blanket around his shoulders, feeling a slight chill. 

“No, thank you, daddy isn't hungry...” he said, so quietly. Jessica inclined her head toward him, gave him a stern look. 

“Please daddy! Please!” Aaron sighed, stood up and made his way to the table. He sat in the chair and looked at his setting, a small bowl of soup and a half of a sandwich. Jessica smiled at him, so encouraging, she knew he was in pain but she didn't understand. No one did, because he wouldn't tell anyone what was going on. Jack was still watching him, so he picked up the sandwich and began eating, taking small bites. 

“Daddy eat!” He dipped the sandwich in the soup with some trepidation, he was pushing his luck now. The three of them ate everything, talking about the next movie they'd watch. Jack had it all planned out. As Jessica cleaned up after the meal, Aaron excused himself and padded toward his bedroom, already feeling the ramifications of his lunch. He closed the door behind him and immediately gripped the dresser, the stabbing pain in his stomach worse than ever. It was like being ripped apart from the inside, turning his guts to pulp. He fell to his knees and let out a low groan, unable to keep the sound inside no matter how hard he wrestled with it. Toppling over now, he lay on the ground, his knees pulled to his chest and coughed, throwing up bright red blood all over his carpet. His eyes widened at the sight, and he called out to Jessica – it went against every instinct he had, but in that moment, he was terrified. She opened the bedroom door and went stark white, dropping to her knees beside him. 

“Aaron?” she asked, and he groaned again, tears streaming down his face. “I'm calling 911.” He shook his head, shook it so fast, pleaded with her not to – it would scare Jack. He wouldn't do it. 

“Dave...” he moaned softly, his body tensing up and relaxing as the pain coursed through him in waves. “Call Dave. Please.” 

With shaking fingers, she dialed Dave's number and begged him to come right away. He was at work but said he'd be there as quickly as he could. He rushed out of his office with nothing but his keys and took the stairs two at a time, bounding for the door. 

“Where's the fire?” Derek asked, walking toward the bullpen with his coffee in hand. 

“It's Hotch,” he muttered breathlessly. “I've got to go.” The whole team looked up now, watching him rush out, then turned toward each other. Every one of them was scared. They couldn't remember ever seeing Dave move so fast. 

At Aaron's place, everything was a blur. Jack was sleeping on the couch with a movie on, and Jessica was sitting beside Aaron, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. He was in and out of waves of intense pain, his body tensing and relaxing, his breathing ragged and wet. There was a pool of bright red blood in front of him, soaking into the carpet. Dave crouched beside him, touched his face. 

“Aaron?” he said softly, willing his friend to look at him. “Hospital, now.” Aaron nodded, he wouldn't fight. 

“Help me up?” he asked, his voice weak, soft, small. Dave reached under Aaron's arms and helped him to his feet, helped him stand straight when his instinct was to curl up again. He sucked in a deep breath, tears coursing down his cheeks in angry rivers. “It hurts,” he whined, and Dave felt his head swim a little, sure he should just be calling an ambulance but understanding why he couldn't. He just held Aaron for a moment, just felt him, his hands on the other man's hips to keep him steady. Aaron leaned forward, put his forehead against Dave's shoulder and sucked in another deep, pained breath. He reached up, wiped the tears from his cheeks and tried to blink away the last of them, he needed to stop, he couldn't do this in front of Jack. His hands balled into fists around the fabric of Dave's jacket, and he gritted his teeth, riding another wave of coursing, intense pain. He could barely stand, wasn't sure how he was going to walk. 

“We need to go,” Dave said, trying to keep his voice steady and calm while panic pushed through every inch of his body. Aaron nodded, breathed in deep, and stood up as straight as he could. “Can you walk?” Aaron nodded. He didn't look convinced, but he'd find a way. He tugged his robe tight around him, covering the blood on his sweatshirt, and put one foot in front of the other. It was unsteady, and he gripped furniture for support when he could, but he made it out without Jack waking up and seeing him. Jessica blinked back tears as she said goodbye, told Dave to call her immediately, promised Jack would be fine. She'd just lost her sister, and now she was going to scrub her brother's blood out of the carpet before her nephew woke – this wasn't the life she'd seen for herself, once upon a time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here is Part Two. I'm hoping to wrap it up in Part Three, but we'll see how it plays out. I'm not much of a planner, I just let the story tell me when its done (does that sound insane?).

The waiting room was packed with people in all states of misery. Dave and Aaron ended up in overflow seating in the hallway awaiting their turn. After some expert level flirting with a number of nurses and aids, Dave managed to acquire a blanket, a bucket and a cup of ice chips, knowing they'd need to settle in for a while. They sat on a bench against a long wall with a bank of elevators at the end and a terrible painting of some nondescript countryside above them. Aaron was leaning heavily against Dave, his feet pulled up, affecting an almost childlike quality that no one who knew him only from work would have ever believed. The blanket was pulled tight around him but he still shivered. Every time a new wave of pain rushed over him, he gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes closed and fell into Dave who just held him close. They stayed like that until Aaron fell asleep, having finally found a position for his body that kept the pain almost at bay, and Dave kept feeling for his breath, just to make sure he was alive every few minutes. He pulled out his phone, saw texts from everyone on the team separately and a huge group chat where they were getting each other all worked up, asking questions, forming hypotheses, sending WebMD links, essentially going mad in a vortex of their own creation. He shook his head and went straight for the group text, something he generally avoided like the plague, because he didn't have the energy for actual individual conversations right now. 

_At ER. Waiting. He's sleeping. We'll be here awhile. I'll keep you posted – get back to work._

He didn't wait for a return text before closing that chat and calling Jessica. The two of them talked in hushed voices for a long while, each trying not to wake up their charge. He could tell Jessica had been crying, she told him about cleaning up the blood, asked what she should tell Jack and Dave had no good answers, just vague ones, but those would be good enough for a boy Jack's age. They'd have to be. 

It took three hours of waiting before Aaron's name was called. They loaded him into a wheelchair and carted him off, half-asleep, to a small exam room in the back, winding through corridors full of medical equipment and busy people. Dave followed a few steps behind, holding the blanket and the ice cup that was now water while Aaron held the bucket close to him, just in case. He had vomited twice while they waited, which Dave had to admit was a silver lining in the ER because no one came too close to you, they gave you an ample amount of space lest they catch whatever hell bug it was that made you so sick. One man had seated himself at the end of the bench, watched Aaron vomit blood, and promptly made his way back into the main lobby. Dave was certain it wasn't contagious, but he let everyone around them form their own opinions. The bed they put him in was raised high after Dave helped him get into a gown and get settled. They let him keep his sweatpants and socks on, gave Dave a few extra blankets to help keep warm. He'd been shocked, pulling the sweatshirt over Aaron's head, noting that he could see the other man's ribs – he was naturally slim, but he wasn't a small man by any means and seeing him there under the harsh hospital lights, the way his body looked so weak brought a lump into his throat. He'd let it go too far, let Aaron's smile charm him out of his senses. They waited again, this time with a cardiac monitor and pulse ox, and after much trouble getting a vein, an IV cannula in place. He was whisked back to just a few months prior, in this same hospital, a sight so similar to this one now. If you'd asked him that day whether he saw the events unfolding the way they had, he'd have scoffed, said they were at the worst of it because how could it ever get worse than Aaron lying in a hospital bed full of holes, saying goodbye to his family? How naive he'd been. 

“Dave?” Aaron's voice, thick with pain and sleep, broke his silent reverie. “I'm sorry to dump this on you. You...” he started, turning onto his side just a little, pulling his legs up as a wave of pain hit. “You don't deserve this.” Dave sighed, shaking his head. “You tried to help so many times and I just...I'm sorry.” 

“You have a right to your privacy,” Dave said, reaching up to take Aaron's hand. “My desire to help doesn't supersede that, no matter how badly I wish it did.” 

The conversation stopped there and they went back to waiting in silence, Dave firing off a quiet update text that they were back in a room now and still waiting, then he turned off his phone entirely and shoved it into his pocket. The wait was long and Dave was getting impatient – he understood how these things worked, these people had a lot to do, a lot of people to see, but Aaron was in so much pain and he wasn't sure how much longer he could just sit by and watch him endure it without trying to get him some relief. Finally, the people who could help started shuffling through. Dave hung back and let them do what they needed to do, answered questions when asked, but otherwise stayed silent. The decision was made to do an endoscopy, which meant prep and more waiting, and then Dave was alone in the room for what felt like forever. He called Jessica again, because he didn't know what else to do with himself, who else to call. The team, he knew, would just have too many questions, too many opinions, want to know when they could come and see him, and he still had no answers, nothing to offer except uncertainty. They all loved Aaron dearly but they didn't quite understand him the way Jessica did, she was easier to talk to. She knew Aaron inside and out, better than Dave in many ways, she'd grown up with him, watched him become the man he was. While he spoke to Jessica, a nurse came in and told him that Aaron was being admitted to the hospital and would he follow her please so he could be moved to the new room. Jessica wiped a tear from her eye before Jack could see it, and told Dave to make sure Aaron knew everything was fine, she would stay with Jack as long as he needed. It didn't feel like enough, but it was all she could do. She couldn't get his blood out of her head. 

His room was cold, even by Dave's standards. He would need more blankets, had already asked three different people for more blankets, because one person never brought enough. They were like crepe paper, and he'd been in the hospital with Aaron enough times to know how this went. If he was cold, then he was grouchy and this was bad enough without his bad attitude on top of it. If he was being honest, though, he was almost hoping to see grouchy Aaron appear just a little bit, because at least he'd be acting like himself again. 

“How much longer until he's back?” he asked, and they had no answers. He called Emily, paced back and forth across the room, fussed over the blankets some more, went to the vending machine and stocked up on drinks and snacks, fluffed up the pillows, called Penelope, called Derek, and when he was getting ready to dial JJ (because he figured he should make a personal call to everyone, they all needed reassuring in these situations and it was a miracle none of them had shown up at the hospital yet) he saw them wheeling Aaron down the hallway on a bed, trailing an IV pole but looking relaxed. He stepped back and watched as they moved him from one bed to another and made sure all of the monitors were in working order before they left, promising the doctor would be in soon with the results of the endoscopy and the plan. Aaron looked exhausted, like he was barely hanging on, and Dave approached the bed and began pulling blankets up over him, one by one, tucking him in while avoiding the wires and tubes. 

“You stayed...” Aaron muttered, half-drugged and sleepy lidded. Dave smiled, nodded, sat down beside him on the bed. 

“Where else would I be?” 

Aaron's response was just a soft hum, blinking slowly. His head dipped a little, like he was going to drop off to sleep, but he opened his eyes again. “It hurts...” he said softly. “But they gave me drugs so I don't care...that's weird, isn't it?” He muttered something incoherent under his breath about science and his eyes closed again. They stayed closed this time, and Dave just sat watching him in his drugged sleep. When the doctor came in, Aaron was fast asleep and Dave had moved to the chair nearby to finish his phone calls. He'd just finished up with JJ and was getting ready to call Reid when he was interrupted. 

“Mr. Rossi, I take it?” the doctor asked upon entering, pulling up his spinning stool and sliding over. Dave nodded. “I'm Dr. Solomon. How is our patient doing?”

“He's been asleep since he got back,” Dave said, his eyes darting over to Aaron and then back to the doctor who just hummed and nodded. He listened intently as the doctor gave him the rundown, couldn't believe some of what he was hearing. Bleeding ulcers, eating disorder, PTSD, anemia, vitamin deficiency, he was throwing out things faster than Dave could wrap his mind around them. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut – he kept thinking he should have seen it. Except he had seen it, he just couldn't do a damn thing about it. The doctor estimated a minimum of four to five days in the hospital and that was the final straw, he knew Aaron was going to have a fit and was Jessica really up for that long on her own with Jack? He slid back in his chair, sunk down, and raked his hands down his face feeling completely, utterly overwhelmed. Silence fell over the room while he processed what had just been laid out for him. The feeling he was being watched washed over him at once and he turned his head, saw Aaron's sleepy eyes on him, and he sighed. He'd make it happen, whatever it was. He knew that much for sure. 

“Sorry...” Aaron whispered, swallowing thickly, licking his dry lips. “Didn't mean to...” Dave shook his head, putting an end to it. He wasn't sure how much Aaron had heard, how much he knew, or even how lucid he was, but the last thing Dave wanted was an apology. To make him feel somehow bad or guilty for hurting. 

“What is the next step?” Dave asked, turning his head back to the doctor but placing his hand on top of Aaron's gently. He could stare at the other man forever, lose himself in those soulful eyes, but he had to be here now, had to keep his wits about him. IV fluids and nutrition, cauterizing the ulcers, possible blood transfusions and counseling were among the laundry list of items being discussed, scheduled around them. He glanced at Aaron, desperately trying to listen, feeling like he should be more in control, but he was fading in and out. 

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Solomon asked, scooting closer now to Aaron, palpating his stomach and up into his ribs. Aaron winced, almost in slow motion, and turned his head to the side but he said nothing. “On a scale of one to ten, I need you to tell me where you're at please.” 

“Don't know...” he mumbled. “Six? I guess...”

“Okay. You were at an eight when we took you back for your endoscopy so we must be doing something right. We'll keep working on it. It's getting late, you get some sleep – it would be best if you could wait until tomorrow to have visitors, rest tonight.” Dave thought about the team, how they were all anxiously awaiting his call to say they could come in, they might even already be in the lobby for all he knew. They were not patient people, and he would not turn them away unless Aaron asked him to. He doubted whether any of them thought of much else today and would it be fair to make them worry longer without results? He didn't know. Part of him thought no, of course it wasn't, but then he had to remember this wasn't about them and how they felt. He wrestled with it, what his own reaction would be if he was in their position, how he'd probably be storming the hospital for any one of them and he sighed. He'd let them come if Aaron wanted. 

As it turned out, Penelope and Derek were the only ones who insisted on coming that night. Derek had spent the day in and out of meetings with Strauss and needed to talk to Rossi about taking some personal time while Penelope wanted to bring them things from home to make them comfortable and some food. They promised to come together, keep it quiet, and the rest of the team agreed they'd come the following day in shifts. Emily found herself sitting in Dave's office alone that night, her feet kicked up on his desk, a glass of whiskey in her hand that she desperately wanted but had trouble bringing to her lips. 

Derek couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Aaron lying there sleeping. He looked like a ghost, he was so pale and his features were so sharp, pulled tight across his bones. “Shit, Rossi,” he muttered and Dave nodded, stepping away from Aaron's bedside, making room for Penelope who was already crying. She'd come with everything Dave had asked of her – comfortable clothes for Aaron, once they let him out of the gown, a soft thick blanket, extra wool socks, toothbrushes, and Aaron's heating pad because Jessica had insisted that he needed it. She'd also brought Rossi some things he didn't ask for, like his go bag with sleeping clothes and a book to read and a bottle of scotch which she knew wasn't sanctioned by the hospital but she didn't care about that. She somehow doubted they'd tell Rossi no and get away with it, he could be scary. 

“Rossi,” Derek said, his voice hushed, his eyes darting over to Aaron every now and then. “They said five days in the hospital but he looks like hell. How long do you need?”

Dave folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Let's not put the cart before the horse. Tomorrow is Saturday. I'm staying here, but I can still work – bring me cases to review on Monday, reports that need finishing, I can do phone consults. As long as he's here, I don't have anything to do other than sit, I can still work. Once he's released we'll discuss time off if necessary.” 

“Sir?” Penelope asked, and both men paused, turned their heads and saw Aaron open his eyes, peering around the room. He saw Penelope first and smiled, how could he not? She had fuzzy pink things in her hair that looked like Tribbles (he'd have to remember to tell Reid that he'd made a Star Trek connection, the kid would be proud of him) and she was smiling at him. He smelled Derek before he saw him, he'd always been in awe of how Derek always smelled so clean, so fresh, it was strong but never too strong. The two men approached the bed, standing at the foot, observing Aaron who now felt like some sort of museum display piece. 

“How are you doing, man?” Derek asked, the first to break the silence. He already knew what Aaron would say, they all did. Or thought they did. 

“Been better,” was the reply, and they all felt their breath catch. Derek nodded, feeling his steely resolve weaken now. He and Aaron weren't exactly best friends, but they loved each other deeply in the only way they knew how. They were soul bonded brothers, survivors of abusive childhoods, athletes who competed more with themselves than anyone else. They had more in common than anyone gave them credit for, and they butted heads worse than anyone else on the team. Derek could play it off like he was a big tough guy, but seeing Aaron, who mirrored him in so many ways, lying there made him feel small, helpless, shameful. He should have done something – he'd been running with the man since he was cleared for exercise again, he'd seen the lost weight firsthand, not hidden by a crisp suit and tie. He'd chalked it up to trauma, figured he'd snap out of it like he always did, and as long as he was still showing up to run he must have been okay. His running hadn't been affected, in fact he'd almost seemed more determined, stronger, faster. It was easy to fool yourself into thinking things were fine around someone like him. You'd worry, know you were right to, but he'd somehow convince you not to trust your own eyes when it came to him. 

The four of them spoke in hushed voices for nearly an hour, Aaron contributing very little but trying to listen intently. Trying to be present. The drugs they were pumping into him made him groggy, made his brain unfocused and soupy, but the pain that was gnawing at his midsection didn't concern him unless he focused on it or moved. If he just lay still, focused on the words swirling around him, above him, it felt like the pain belonged to someone else. He'd almost convinced himself he was on the mend when, out of nowhere, he felt a wave of nausea too great to ignore and he desperately grabbed for his bucket, lurching toward the side of the bed away from where Garcia sat. His fingers grappled for the plastic tub, knocking it to the floor before Derek could realize what was happening and grab for it – and then there was blood, foamy pink mingled with bright crimson, splattered on the linoleum followed by the pained whimpering of a desperate, humiliated man. Penelope turned away in shock, Derek stepped back with blood on his shoes, Dave rushed forward to push the call button for the nurse. Aaron heaved again, watching as streams of deeper red blood mixed into the swirling puddle on the floor, felt Dave's hand on the back of his neck, warm and grounding. He choked, a low groan escaping from his throat, and then it was over. It struck him as funny, in that moment, that he'd just made his hospital room look like a crime scene – he couldn't ever leave his work at the office. Two nurses rushed in, forcing his friends back, calling for someone to clean up the mess, checking him over, asking him questions he wasn't lucid enough to answer. Dave and Derek exchanged somber glances and Derek moved to Penelope, wrapping her in a hug while she struggled not to cry. 

“We should go,” Derek whispered, and Dave nodded. He'd wanted to say it, but didn't want to be rude. This was his, he thought grimly. His burden, his charge, not theirs. He felt fiercely protective of Aaron's privacy, almost to a fault. Penelope looked terror stricken. 

“We can't leave him alone...” she stammered, but Derek hugged her tighter, pressed a kiss to her forehead and smiled. 

“Dave isn't going anywhere, baby girl” he said, his voice calmer and more reassuring than he felt. “We'll come back tomorrow. He'd want it that way.” She knew Derek was right but she hated it. She wanted to stay by his side, hold his hand, shower him with affection and rays of light and love because he needed it so badly but she knew it wasn't the time. 

“Okay. Okay...” she whispered, holding tight to Derek now. “Tomorrow.” She'd go home and spend the entire night baking, cooking, her kitchen would be as much of a disaster as her head was but it would help. It always helped. She would talk to Reid until he fell asleep on the phone, and then she'd call Emily because Emily almost never slept, she was so much like Hotch. They would decide to go out to breakfast after pulling an all-nighter, waffles and syrup and whipped cream and they'd talk more, then go home and take long Saturday morning naps, exhausted and full. Derek went home and found something around his house to tinker on, keeping his mind focused and his hands busy. There were plenty of projects, small things that never seemed to get checked off because something always came up – fix some molding, put up the new weatherstripping on his back door, putting new caulk around the faucets and tub, changing the filter in his furnace, mindless busywork. 

In the hospital, Dave watched while the night crew worked on Aaron. He stood with his back flat against the wall, making himself small and silent, just watching his friend. He was sick again, a nurse was holding his tub this time, he looked so weak, his body hardly seemed to move, his hands stayed limp against his stomach. The nurses assured Dave this wasn't uncommon with bleeding ulcers, that the doctor would be in soon to determine if they needed to do anything other than try to make him comfortable for the time being. He was on the books for surgery first thing in the morning and it would be ideal for them to wait for the scheduled surgeon, he'd been the one to treat Aaron after Foyet's attack and was familiar with his medical history. It had made Aaron more comfortable, he'd elected to wait, and as long as his body cooperated then they were fine with that. When the doctor came in, he immediately went to Aaron's side, grabbed the tub from the nurse and held it, crouching so he could get closer to Aaron, and looked into his eyes. 

“Not feeling so hot, huh?” he asked, and Aaron just looked at him dully, listless. He let out a low whimper, his body convulsed, and a small amount of blood trickled over his lips. Dave closed his eyes, there were things he just couldn't watch and this, he found, was one of them. He'd never get that image out of his mind. The nurse brought over a paper towel, gently wiped the blood away from Aaron's chin, and backed away again. Dave could taste the blood in the air, the sickening metallic tang wouldn't leave him alone. After another moment of being close to Aaron, looking him over, the doctor handed the tub back to the nurse and approached Dave cautiously. 

“I know he'd prefer to wait until morning, but I think we need to get our on call surgeon in here to determine whether it's advisable. He's bleeding a lot and I'm concerned about how much he's losing. Are you on board?” Dave nodded, balling his hands into fists in his pockets. “Good, I'll make some calls and be right back.” 

More people swept through the room, changing IV bags, cleaning up blood, changing Aaron's gown and blankets. It was a lot of activity for midnight, Dave noted with a yawn. He'd been up since 5am, he was more than ready to try and sleep but he knew that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon. Two new doctors came through, an on call surgeon and a hospitalist he was told, both of whom thought it was prudent to do the electrocauterization now rather than waiting, but Aaron protested repeatedly. Dave was left alone with Aaron for a few moments of peace, tasked with trying to get him on board with the surgery now, but he had no luck. 

“No,” Aaron said, tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked once and they came cascading down his pale cheeks. “It's only a few more hours.” He was surprisingly lucid at that moment, pain had a way of doing that to a person, and Dave backed down. 

“You're losing a lot of blood,” was all Dave could say to counter his friend's stubborn refusal to budge. For almost anyone else that would have been enough, but Aaron had been down this dark road before and he wanted what he wanted. 

“Dave,” Aaron pleaded, and Dave just nodded. It was done. He was sure that upsetting Aaron wasn't productive, and it was only a few more hours. The surgeon was visibly irritated, but Aaron's doctor and the hospitalist agreed that it would be okay to wait if he insisted. They moved the surgery time up into an earlier slot to appease everyone, and slowly the room emptied of people and Aaron's nausea passed. Dave took his seat beside his friend and leaned heavily against the bed, exhausted. 

“You're a real pain in the ass,” Dave muttered, and he knew it had made Aaron smile. He found it challenging to lift his head again, but he did so, checking out his friend who was staring at the ceiling with a look that said he was desperately fighting off more tears, more nausea, more pain. He just couldn't seem to get a break. Dave knew if he called the nurses again they'd make him get the surgery now, and his mind lit on the heating pad in the bag Garcia had brought. He excused himself, asked the nurses if he could use a microwave for a moment and heated it up to the point it burned his fingers just to carry it. When he walked back into the room, Aaron looked like life had somehow breathed itself back into his lungs, he could smell it and Dave almost cried at the look of utter relief that washed over the other man's features. Dave handed it to him and watched him settle it against his midsection, his hands resting against the soft, worn flannel, stroking the frayed thread at the corners like it was the most natural thing in the world. The change was immediate and he was able to drift off to sleep. Dave even got a couple of hours, slouched low in his chair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished! This probably could have gone on forever, I don’t really think that Hotch has a solid good relationship with food if I’m being honest. I think his view of food is as more of a necessity than a joy, and I imagine he forgets to eat entire meals most days. In my head, he lives on coffee until dinner time on work days, and he probably eats with Jack on weekends. Anyway! My apologies for it taking so long!

He made it to surgery without further incident, leaving Dave alone in the room that still smelled faintly metallic. It would be hours before he'd be back, between prep, procedure and recovery, and that was if everything went according to plan. Jessica had called, asked if she could do anything and Dave told her she was already doing the most important thing, taking care of Jack. She still felt like she should be doing more. JJ and Will were headed out of town to pick up Henry from JJ's mother's place after spending a week visiting so the couple could get some rest, but stopped by with breakfast and coffee for Dave, hoping they'd be able to see Aaron on their way out but promising they'd stop on their way back if he was up for company. He tidied the room, set out Aaron's clothes in the hopes that he'd be well enough to wear something other than a hospital gown soon, and ate his breakfast beside the window overlooking the courtyard below. By the time Aaron was brought back into the room and settled into his bed, Dave was ready for a nap and Aaron looked about the same. 

“How do you feel?” Dave asked, after the room had emptied and they were left alone again. He hated asking that question, but what else could he say? Aaron shrugged, the look on his face said it all. He was in pain, a lot of it, and the drugs weren't helping so much this time. His stomach burned, his throat felt raw and his head was foggy and throbbing. He felt worse than he had the night before. 

“Can I get you anything?”

“No.” He closed his eyes, let his head sink back into the pillow, swallowed thickly. The saliva burned going down and made his stomach lurch. He forced himself to breathe through it. Dave approached, sat on the bed beside him, held his hand and tried to help him the best he could. He traced the lines of Aaron's veins, felt the strong tendons stretching through his bruised and swollen hands, stroking up and down to help settle him. After a few minutes more, Aaron seemed to be past it, regaining his senses little by little. 

“You can leave,” Aaron said softly, his eyes trained on Dave now. “You don't have to sit here.”

“I know. I don't have to do any of this. I don't have to be your friend. I don't have to love you, either, but I've made my choices. If you want me to go, I'll go, but if it's up to me...I'm staying.”

Aaron didn't tell him he could leave again. When Emily and Reid showed up around lunch time, Dave was still sitting on the bed, holding Aaron's hand through the pain. It had been hours and he was exhausted, the care team was trying to get his post-op pain managed but were finding it a challenge. Their plan, now, was to give him something to make him sleep through it and neither of them argued that point. He was already nodding off when he saw his friends enter the room and he struggled to keep his eyes open, to greet them. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice hardly above a whisper. He was almost out. “Reid...” he beckoned, and Reid approached the bed, leaning close. “Garcia had trubb...tripp...tribbles in her hair.” Reid chuckled, he knew exactly what the other man meant even if his speech was slurred and almost too quiet to hear, he'd seen Penelope's hair the day before and he'd thought the same thing. Emily shot a sideways glance at Dave who just smiled and shrugged. 

“Nerds,” he said softly, feeling Aaron's hand finally relax beneath his. His eyes were closed and he looked almost peaceful for the first time in hours. “Have a seat, guys. They just pumped him full of sleep juice, he's not going to be joining us anytime soon.” He gave them the rundown of what had been going on, the abbreviated version, because he didn't have the energy to devote to details. The way Aaron looked, sleeping there, he was jealous. He pressed his fingertips to his eyes, hard, and ran his hands down his face to try and wake himself up. 

“How are you holding up?” Emily asked, crossing her legs in the chair closest to Dave. Reid took the doctor's stool and spun around in a circle a few times, he'd never been able to sit on one and not do that. It was like clicking tongs together when you picked them up, you had to do it every time, just to make sure it worked. 

“Oh, I'm just...” Dave started, trailing his fingers gently along Aaron's thumb. “I'm relieved.” She nodded, her dark hair flopping in her face. She looked tired, they all must have. The talk turned to other things, case files they were going to have to review, what they'd do if they had to leave town without two of their teammates, what the plan was when Aaron was discharged in a few days.

“You know you don't have to do everything on your own,” Reid chimed in, spinning the stool toward them, pulling his long legs up to his chest to really get it rocking. “We can help.” Dave regarded him with a look that spoke volumes, watching him spin like a child. 

“He's going to be here another few days, we have time to figure it out. I don't really have a clear picture of what this looks like yet.” And that was that. It would all depend on how much recovery he was able to manage here, what they could accomplish. Right now, Dave wasn't terribly hopeful – they couldn't even seem to manage his pain, so getting him eating and healthy again seemed a daunting task. Emily and Reid stayed for a while, just visiting, bouncing ideas around, hoping Aaron would wake back up before they left but he didn't – they'd really put him out. It was JJ and Will's turn to come through, so they said their goodbyes and promised they'd be back the following day with lunch in hand next time. JJ brought Dave dinner (she brought a box of Capri Sun pouches for Aaron, wild cherry, because it was his favorite) and Will had grabbed a stack of dusty old DVDs from JJ's mom's garage to help them pass the time. He apologized in advance because they were all pretty terrible movies (Dave didn't think they looked so bad, he did see When Harry Met Sally and City Slickers in the stack), but at least it had to be better than the garbage hospital cable channels. They stayed and visited for a while, Henry sleeping in his stroller, Aaron sleeping in his bed. It was nearly the final rotation time, Derek and Garcia would be coming as the last pair of the night and then he could sleep. He just had to make it through the last visit, but dinner first. He sat in the quiet after JJ and Will left and ate his dinner, watching an infomercial on mute while Aaron slept on. 

When they were finally alone for the night, Aaron was wide awake. He'd woken sometime during Derek and Garcia's visit, spoken little but seemed to feel better or at least better able to conceal it. He apologized for the night prior as if he'd somehow decided to put on that horror show on purpose. As if his very existence was something to apologize for. Being alone, just the two of them, felt good, it felt comfortable. Dave managed to get Aaron to sip one of his Capri Suns and he wished he'd been awake to see JJ, to thank her. He wouldn't be able to eat anything solid for at least another day, but between the Capri Suns and the boxes of grape popsicles that Garcia had brought, he'd manage. 

“You look tired,” Aaron said, nibbling absentmindedly on the tiny yellow straw in his half empty juice pouch. 

“That's an understatement” Dave replied with a lopsided grin and sleepy eyes. He watched Aaron there with his straw and he just couldn't help but smile, there wasn't anything else he could do. They decided to put on a movie, after which Dave crawled up onto the bed beside Aaron, snuggled in under the blanket Garcia had brought them, and promptly fell asleep before the opening credits had even run. Aaron sat wide awake for hours in pain, just trying to hold still, stay silent, not wake Dave who had already been through enough for one day. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, at a time no one should be awake, Dave's eyes fluttered open sleepily and he shifted against Aaron, causing the other man to cry out softly. It had startled Dave, he hadn't been expecting that. He sat upright and rubbed at his eyes, squinting at the clock before looking back at Aaron who had the look of a man in absolute misery. He was wide awake with tear stained cheeks and red rimmed eyes, staring now at the wall very seriously to avoid looking at Dave. 

“Why didn't you wake me up?” Dave asked, blinking the fog from his eyes. Aaron shook his head. 

“You need to sleep too,” Aaron whispered, squeezing his eyes shut against another wave of intense pain. Dave sighed and pressed the call button for the nurses, he wasn't even going to mess around with asking what Aaron wanted. The man had been sitting hours in agony just for the sake of Dave sleeping, he already knew what Aaron would say if he'd left it up to him and quite frankly, he was done letting Aaron call the shots. 

“I'm not the one recovering from...” his voice trailed off for a moment before he said anything he'd regret. He took a deep breath, leveraged his gaze, and continued quietly. “It isn't about me, Aaron. You should have woken me.”

“I'm sorry.”

Dave just stared at him, unable to comprehend the kind of torture a child had to endure in order to become an adult so frustratingly, heartrendingly apologetic and private that this conversation would ever happen. If it were him, he'd have kept the nurses busy the entire time, tending to his every need. If it were him, he'd be hopped up on pain meds surrounded by jello cups to be traded for contraband items being sneaked in by Reid or Morgan who simply couldn't resist. But here Aaron sat, somehow convinced he was bothering people whose job it was to tend to his needs by simply existing in their presence. He just stared at Aaron incredulously, unable to form a thought that felt right exploding as words – he didn't want to be mean, he wasn't angry, he was just so incredibly at his wits end. 

“I'm not here to sleep, I'm here for you,” Dave said, keeping his voice carefully even. “You have to tell me when something isn't right or when you need something. You have to tell me things, Aaron. I shouldn't have to spend so much of my time devoted to your tells, reading between the lines, deciphering what you didn't say in the midst of the little you did...it isn't fair. You can't just push yourself to the point of emergency and then expect I'll be able to come running every time. What if I'm not able to come? What if I don't make it in time? Do you know how frustrating and terrifying it was to hear Jessica's voice the other day and to know that I'd been trying to help for months...Aaron, I can't help if you won't let me.”

Aaron swallowed hard, blinking back tears. He couldn't look at Dave. The room swam around him, his stomach was on fire, his hands trembled. Dave shifted, grabbed Aaron's hands in his own, kissed his bruised, swollen knuckles and sighed. “I haven't stopped loving you. I backed off, gave you space when you needed it but my feelings haven't changed. Have yours?”

Dave pushed the call button again, noticing that it hadn't been answered yet. Maybe they were busy, but he needed them, he could see it in Aaron's eyes. They had to do something for him. Aaron shook his head. “No, they haven't. I just...don't know how to...I can't seem to find my way out.”

“Then let me walk beside you and we'll figure it out together.” The nurse rushed in finally and put a halt to their conversation, which Aaron was more than a little relieved at. After adjusting his pain medication further, she gave him something to help him sleep and it didn't take long before both men were dozing off in the bed, though the nurse said Dave shouldn't be there (he gave her a rather stern look and she didn't argue it). 

The rest of the week went by about the same. Aaron's pain was a challenge to control but he made improvements, and by the third day was tolerating some small amounts of solid food with minor pain afterward. It was enough that he still didn't want to eat, but he would do it if asked. They had a counselor come in daily to talk to him, which gave Dave time to run home and take a shower before they got on with their day's activities. They took walks through the halls, played cards, he forced Aaron to have a Popsicle when he didn't want to eat solid food. At night he would read to Aaron, it was something he did to soothe himself – he enjoyed reading out loud, and he hadn't met anyone yet who didn't like to be read to, especially when they were in bed sick. By the time Aaron was scheduled for discharge, they had already read through the first two Dark Tower novels cover to cover and were eager to begin the third at home. They'd argued all week about whether or not to be at Dave's or Aaron's, but it was finally decided they'd stay at Aaron's because it was smaller and easier to get from room to room in, and he was still weak and in some considerable pain. His apartment was also in closer proximity to the hospital and all of his appointments, so even if Dave wasn't keen on the idea of apartment living, he figured he could manage it – after all, he'd spent the last week in a hospital room, it would feel like luxury after that. 

“DADDY!!!” Jack hollered when the door opened, and he rushed toward his father before Jessica could intervene, his arms outstretched. He ran head first into Aaron, wrapping him in a tight hug that nearly knocked him over, and Aaron struggled to keep quiet, letting out a low, guttural moan as his son's head hit his still very painful stomach. Dave crouched down and peeled Jack off of him gently, smiling. 

“Easy, buddy. We have to be very gentle with daddy okay? His tummy hurts. I'll help you remember if you'll help me, too. And we'll both help aunt Jessica remember.” he said, hefting Jack up into his arms so he could be face to face with Aaron, winking at Jessica who was standing close by wishing she'd thought to grab Jack before he jumped up. 

“You better daddy?” Jack asked, opening his arms for a leaning hug. Aaron wrapped him tight, letting Dave continue supporting the boy's weight. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, smiling. “I'm better.” Dave set Jack back down and watched him rush back to the couch, which was covered in pillows and blankets in little mountains. 

“He uh, he made you a bed...” Jessica said, indicating the mess on the couch. “He's got your whole day planned out.” Dave helped Aaron make his way to the couch, his hand placed gently at the small of the other man's back. He eased him down into the nest of blankets and pillows, covered him up, and helped Jack get into a place where he could be close to his father but not hurting him. Jessica dug through his bag and grabbed his heating pad, smelling up the entire place and bringing it to him without being asked. Dave set up his laptop at the dining table and got through a miserably large stack of paperwork and phone calls while Aaron rested on the couch or played legos on the floor with Jack. They took short walks down to the park and watched Jack play for hours sometimes, other times Aaron felt sick had to come right back but there was progress. Jessica had made about a thousand meals for Aaron, portioned out into very small containers in the freezer (most of which were oatmeal with fruit or sweet potatoes with broccoli and Aaron said it reminded him of when Jack was a baby and Haley had filled their freezer with homemade baby food), and Derek started dropping by on his way to work to make them both smoothies under the guise of getting his running partner back sooner. By the time Dave went back to work, Aaron was able to eat a few small meals a day and was almost pain free more often than not. He and Jack spent their days on their own, with people just dropping in on them every few hours or calling to check up. The team was called out to a case in New Jersey, which wasn't terribly far away but Dave was hesitant to join them. Derek told him he didn't need to come if he wasn't comfortable, he could stay and work with Garcia, but Aaron insisted he go. 

The first night was a disaster. Aaron hadn't realized how much he'd depended simply on Dave's presence at night, in his bed. He got Jack into bed and immediately made his way to bed himself. Curling up in his sheets that smelled like Dave, feeling the heavy silence cave in on him, he felt that familiar catch in his throat that meant he was about to have an anxiety attack. The shower was his refuge, and it worked for a time, hot water against his skin. He sat with his knees pulled to his chest, water pouring down over his curled up form and focused on his breaths. For the first time in weeks he was alone, and he hadn't realized just how badly that would affect him after so long. He loved to be alone but he'd somehow forgotten how to do it. He sat in the shower until the water ran cold, until he shivered, and got out. He heated up his pad and got back into bed, shivering, wishing he'd had the foresight to get out before the water was cold. The lump was back in his throat, and then the tears came. He hadn't even been prepared for that. Slowly, he reached for his phone and dialed Dave's number, before things got out of hand. He was trying.

“Dave?” he asked when the other man's voice sounded. 

“Aaron, are you alright?” Dave asked, sitting bolt upright now in bed. He'd been nodding off, nightcap in hand. 

“I'm okay...I just missed you,” and it was true. As soon as he heard Dave's voice on the other end of the line, his breathing steadied, the lump went away. Dave smiled. 

“Yeah, I miss you too...been a while since I've had a bed to myself. I'm not sure how I'll sleep without fighting over the blankets all night.” 

Aaron laughed. They talked for an hour, sat in near silence for a while after that, and finally Aaron said he was tired and ready to sleep. 

…........

“Have you eaten?” Dave asked, popping his head into Aaron's office one early morning shortly after Aaron's return to work. Dave had tried to convince him to take more time, but Aaron insisted that he’d be better off if he could get back to his job and maybe he was right, maybe it was what he needed. He saw a cup of oatmeal and a banana on the other man's desk and smiled. 

“Working on it,” came the reply without even looking up, his head buried in a case file. Dave wasn't sure when he'd stop asking, but he figured he'd know when the time was right. It would probably be when Aaron snapped and not a minute sooner.


End file.
